


A Klaine Advent Event

by swallowthewhale



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 17:54:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 10,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/738461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swallowthewhale/pseuds/swallowthewhale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of drabbles based on prompts from the Klaine Advent Event on tumblr. Overall rating is PG-13, individual chapters with higher ratings will be stated in the summary of that chapter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Timing

Kurt hates when his timing is thrown off. He has exactly two hours in the morning to get ready before he has to leave, with an extra five minutes just in case something goes wrong. He did not plan, however, for Rachel to hog the bathroom for half an hour more than she usually does, leaving Kurt to rearrange his schedule around waiting for her to emerge so he can shower and do his morning skin care régime.  


So by the time he’s finally ready, it’s just over seven minutes past the time he normally leaves to catch his train, and now he’ll have to run. And, of course, he’s not paying nearly as much attention to where he’s going as the time on his phone and he slams into someone going in the opposite direction. The man stumbles and loses his grip on the armful of papers he was carrying.  


“Shit,” Kurt mutters. “I’m so sorry.” He kneels to help the man gather the papers.  


“It’s okay,” the guy says and woah.  


Kurt glances up into big honey eyes and a warm smile and can practically feel his brain short-circuit. He blinks slowly and clears his throat in an attempt to keep it from hitting notes that only dogs can hear. “Here,” he manages, handing over the papers. “I’m really sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”  


“It’s not a problem,” the guy says brightly. “No harm done.”  


Kurt nods and glances at his watch. “Fuck. Now I really am late.”  


“For what?”  


Kurt sighs and tugs the waistline of his jacket back into place. “Work. The next train doesn’t come for another twenty minutes.”  


The man shifts awkwardly and rubs at the back of his head. “Well, would you like to get coffee with me while you wait?”  


Kurt gapes at him for a moment before remember his manners and snapping his mouth shut. “I’d love to.”  


The man lights up and holds his hand out for Kurt to shake. “I’m Blaine.”  


Kurt tries to ignore the warmth trickling lazily up his arm at the contact. “Kurt.”  


He’s never been more grateful for running late.


	2. History

Mark is nudging his shoulder with increasing force, but Blaine barely notices it. He feels rather like he’s glued to the spot; if there were a fire he probably still wouldn’t be able to move. It’s been years, years in which Blaine has cried and hurt and failed to move on. Years of failed first dates and feeling nauseous after drunk hook-ups and throwing himself into school and work and anything else that will keep Blaine from thinking about him too much. 

It should be sad how seeing Kurt again reverts Blaine back to high school, but he can’t bring himself to care. Because Kurt looks amazing and beautiful and happy, like the future Blaine has finally convinced himself he can’t have. Because Kurt is talking animatedly to a Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome, and Blaine is probably not even recognizable in a graphic tee and glasses, the amount of gel significantly less than the last time Kurt saw him. 

Mark pinches Blaine’s side. 

“What?” Blaine snaps, finally turning to look at him. 

“Someone special?” Mark asks, ignoring Blaine’s tone. 

Blaine sighs and looks back over at Kurt, who is pointing out a jacket in the window to Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome. 

“We have… a history,” Blaine hedges. 

Mark gapes at him. “Is that Kurt?” 

Blaine scowls. “Yes. Can we go now?” 

“Nope,” Mark says brightly, grabbing Blaine’s arm and dragging him across the street. “We’re going to say hi.” 

Blaine’s eyes widen and he digs in his heels. “No. No. Mark, please.” 

He stops. “Blaine. You’re still in love with this guy after years. You should at least talk to him.” 

“Please, Mark. He’s obviously with someone. He doesn’t want to see me. Just leave it alone, okay?” 

Mark frowns and crosses his arm. “Blaine, I’ve watched you pine after Kurt as long as I’ve known you. Maybe that guy is just a friend, maybe Kurt still loves you. But you’ll never know unless you go talk to him.” 

Blaine scrubs his hands through his hair. “Fine. Fine. But if this all falls to shit, I’m blaming you.” 

Mark just beams at him and continues to pull him toward Kurt. 

Kurt turns around just as they reach the sidewalk and his face lights up. “Blaine?” he exclaims and Blaine is hugging him before he even registers that Kurt is happy to see him. 

“Hi, Kurt,” he says quietly. 

Kurt pulls back, hands on his shoulders, and examines Blaine. “Oh my God, it’s good to see you.” 

Blaine smiles shyly. “It’s good to see you, too.” 

Kurt tugs at one of his curls. “Who finally convinced you to let go of the gel?” he teases. “I think I need to give them some kind of reward.” 

That startles a laugh out of Blaine, and he finally relaxes. “I missed you.” 

Kurt’s face softens. “I missed you, too, Blaine. So much.” He brightens. “You should come with us,” he says, glancing at Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome. “We were just getting our Christmas shopping done.” 

Blaine bites his lip nervously. “I don’t want to intrude.” 

“Nonsense.” Kurt tucks his arm through Blaine’s and drawing him forward. “You’re always welcome. And we have a lot of catching up to do. Don’t think I’m letting you get away again, Blaine Warbler.” 

Blaine feels his stomach swoop pleasantly and Mark raises his eyebrows suggestively at him. Blaine resists the temptation to flip him off. 

“This is Kevin,” Kurt waves toward Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome. “Rachel’s boyfriend. He needed serious help trying to figure out what to get her for Christmas. She’s ridiculously difficult to shop for.” 

“Still,” Blaine laughs and Kurt rolls his eyes. 

“Not much has changed,” he declares before blushing. “Except, you know…” 

“I know,” Blaine says quietly, squeezing Kurt’s arm comfortingly. “It’s okay.” 

“It’s not.” Kurt stops as Mark and Mr. Tall, Dark-Kevin continue. “I hated the way things ended between us. I- you were still my best friend and I missed you but I just couldn’t figure out how to forgive you, and-” 

“You didn’t owe me anything,” Blaine interrupts. “I screwed up, not you.” 

Kurt tugs on Blaine’s scarf fondly. “That’s not true and we both know it. But even so, I should have just talked to you. I was an idiot, and I’m sorry. I hope we can be friends again, at least?” 

Even if Kurt didn’t look sweetly hopeful, Blaine probably wouldn’t be able to say no. “Of course.” 

Kurt smiles and kisses Blaine’s cheek, lingering longer than is probably considered appropriate between friends. “Good. Now you can help me feed my shopping addiction.” 

Blaine only laughs and lets himself be pulled along. He so owes Mark for this.


	3. Hideaway

Burt and Finn are in the middle of arguing over the movie to watch when Kurt’s phone rings. He fully intends on ignoring the call - it’s Christmas Eve and he’s spending time with his family - but it’s Blaine’s house number, and Blaine never calls from that number. Never. So Kurt slips out of the room and picks up, equal parts worried and annoyed.  


“Hello?”  


There’s a moment of silence on the other end before a distinctly female voice speaks. “Is this Kurt?”  


Kurt physically removes the phone from his ear to make sure he’s not imagining things. “Mrs. Anderson?”  


“Yes,” she says quietly. “I’m sorry for interrupting your evening, but I was wondering if you’ve heard from Blaine.”  


Kurt swallows down the lump in his throat. “Not since yesterday. Why?”  


“There was a… disagreement at dinner and Blaine left. He won’t answer his phone and it’s been almost two hours.”  


Kurt leans against the wall and closes his eyes, forcing himself to breathe slowly. “I think I know where he is. I’ll let you know if I find him.”  


There’s a sigh of relief on the other end. “Thank you, Kurt.”  


He doesn’t bother to reply before hanging up and striding back into the living room, where Finn is putting a movie into the DVD player.  


“Dad?”  


Burt looks up. “What’s wrong?”  


“Blaine’s mom just called me. He left a few hours ago and won’t answer his phone.”  


Burt frowns. “And I suppose you know where he is?”  


Kurt fidgets with his phone. “I think so, yeah.”  


“Kiddo, you don’t owe him or his family anything, you know. You can just call him, you don’t need to go out there.”  


Kurt flinches and glares at his dad. “Blaine is still my best friend, Dad. Things might be a little shaky between us right now, but that hasn’t changed. He’s upset and he only has me to talk to right now, so I’m going to be there for him.”  


Burt sighs. “Okay. Be careful. It’s icy.”  


Kurt smiles faintly at him and hurries to pull on a jacket. “I’ll call when I find him.”  


\--  


Schooner Park is a fifteen-minute drive from Kurt’s house, but Blaine usually walks or runs there when he’s stressed. Kurt hopes he had the sense to drive today, because the temperature has dropped down to nearly twenty degrees in the past hour. Kurt brings a blanket and extra jacket with him as he sets out on the trail that leads to The Spot. He’d found it with Blaine two summers before, a tiny alcove tucked away between the lake and the trails that’s nearly invisible to people walking by.  


Blaine looks up at Kurt with wide, surprised eyes when he drapes the blanket over Blaine’s shoulders.  


“How’d you know?”  


Kurt rolls his eyes and sits down next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to pull Blaine into his side. For warmth, he tells himself. “Your mom called me.”  


Blaine gapes at him. “She did?”  


“She wouldn’t have had to if you’d picked up your phone,” he snaps half-heartedly.  


Blaine winces. “It’s in my car. I didn’t really want to talk to my parents.”  


"Do you want to talk to me?” Kurt offers gently.  


Blaine only shrugs and wiggles closer. “More of the usual, really. My grandparents asking when I’ll be done with this ‘phase’ and find a nice girl to settle down with. My parents doing nothing to defend me.”  


Kurt rubs his arm soothingly. “You’re only eighteen and they want you to ‘settle down’ already?”  


He manages a weak smile. “But then my uncle said something about me being a fag and a whore and that my dad should just cut me off already, and I left.”  


“Good,” Kurt murmurs, turning to hug Blaine. “You don’t need to hear any of that.”  


Blaine buries his face in Kurt’s neck. “Thank you for coming. You didn’t have to.”  


“Of course I did,” Kurt whispers. “You’re still my best friend, no matter what. I still love you.”  


Blaine freezes up a little before collapsing into Kurt’s embrace. Kurt thinks he’s crying now, but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he just holds him close and pretends that they won’t have to talk about all this later. Because as much as he wants to avoid it, he owes it to Blaine to talk, really talk, about this whole mess. But not today, today he’ll hold Blaine as much as he needs it, and maybe take him home to watch Christmas movies and drink hot chocolate with his family. Today he’ll give Blaine whatever he needs, and tomorrow they’ll figure out the rest.


	4. Brick

Right now, Blaine would much rather be in his bed watching crappy reality TV shows than wandering hopelessly through the aisles of a home improvement store. But if he doesn’t do this now, he probably never will, so he might as well get over it.  


“Do you need help?” asks a pleasant voice behind him and he turns to see a tall, lean, gorgeous man standing behind him, smiling.  


“Um…” Blaine blinks dumbly, eyes trailing up and down the man’s body.  


The man blushes a little at the scrutiny. “Can I help you find something?”  


“Oh! Um, yeah, I need a new countertop for my kitchen.”  


The man brightens and holds out his hand for Blaine to shake. “Kurt Hummel, and I can take you there.”  


“Blaine.”  


“So, Blaine, what kind of counter were you thinking of?”  


Blaine flushes. “I don’t really know anything about countertops,” he admits.  


Kurt chuckles. “Well why don’t you tell me what your kitchen looks like and we’ll go from there.”  


“Ah, well, it’s all exposed brick, mainly. And the cabinets are dark brown.”  


“Exposed brick?” Kurt bounces on his toes. “I’ve always wanted exposed brick in my apartment, but, unfortunately, I never found one during my apartment hunting.”  


Blaine rubs the back of his neck nervously. “I think it loses its appeal when every wall is brick. It hurts a lot more if you trip into it, too.”  


That startles a laugh out of Kurt, who stops in front of a wall of counter sample squares. “Well, here are your choices.”  


Blaine gazes up at the samples with wide eyes. “I think I’ll need help picking one out,” he admits meekly.  


Kurt only grins and claps his hands. Blaine leaves an hour later with a receipt for new countertops and Kurt’s number in his phone.


	5. Sheets

Kurt has decided to preemptively blame Rachel for whatever comes of the night. It was her idea to go see Hamlet with a bunch of her NYADA friends, who will no doubt spend every free moment criticizing everything possible about the play (because he’s hung out with them enough to know that’s just what they do. To everything.) And he doesn’t particularly like Hamlet, either. The only character he feels remotely interested in is Ophelia, and she has pretty much no purpose or plot line outside of serving that of Hamlet’s. He often feels like that about Rachel and himself. Rachel, obviously, being Hamlet. Not that he’d ever tell her that.  


So he barely pays attention until an all-too-familiar voice jolts him back to attention. He hasn’t heard that voice in nearly three years, but he’s sure he’ll never forget it. He does think he might have forgotten what Blaine looks like, exactly, because Kurt can’t spot him on the stage. That is, until Hamlet turns fully toward the audience for his first soliloquy and Kurt can’t help but gape. Blaine’s hair is styled in artfully tousled curls and he’s scruffy, most likely for the character. He looks unnervingly and realistically gaunt and pale, even from the back of the theatre, but under the loose black clothing, Kurt imagines he’s just as gorgeous and fit as he was in high school, probably even more so.  


Rachel pinches his hand and widens her eyes at him dramatically. He rolls his eyes and pulls his arm away. She probably didn’t know, but he doesn’t put it past her at all to play matchmaker. Instead of thinking about that, he focuses on the play again, just in time to catch Blaine spit out the end of the soliloquy.  


“O, most wicked speed, to post  


With such dexterity to incestuous sheets!  


It is not nor it cannot come to good:  


But break, my heart; for I must hold my tongue.”  


And if that doesn’t send Kurt spinning into memories he doesn’t want to relive, it’s made even worse by the honest agony on Blaine’s face. Kurt can’t quite remember why they never worked things out, why he never forgave Blaine.

\--

Rachel manages to elbow her way to the front of the crowd by the stage door, dragging Kurt with her.  


“He doesn’t want to see me,” Kurt insists, although it’s probably pointless to resist.  


Rachel sighs and flips her hair over her shoulder. “Of course he does. And you want to see him, too. Don’t even deny it.”  


Kurt fidgets awkwardly. “Of course I do. But I don’t want to ambush him. He doesn’t even know we’re here. I don’t want the first time we see each other in three years to be in front of a crowd of strangers who probably just want his autograph.”  


Rachel purses her lips. “Fine. I’ll stay here, say hi, and tell him you’re here, too. You can wait on the side and see him after everyone leaves.”  


“Unless he doesn’t want to see me,” Kurt repeats.  


She rolls her eyes. “He wants to see you, trust me.”  


Kurt frowns at her. “Did you know Blaine was in this production? Is that why you wanted to come so much?”  


“Nonsense,” Rachel scoffs. “You know I love Shakespeare.”  


“Sure,” Kurt mutters and turns to escape to a quiet corner.  


He distracts himself with Fruit Ninja and Angry Birds on his phone, losing track of time until someone clears their throat in front of him. He startles and looks up into warm and very, very familiar hazel eyes.  


“Blaine,” he breathes, hoping that the journey from sitting to standing is as graceful as it is in his head.  


“Kurt,” Blaine smiles, warm and open. Kurt relaxes a little at the lack of anger, or hostility, or whatever it is he was expecting. “It’s great to see you.”  


“You too,” Kurt says and moves to hug him before pausing awkwardly.  


Blaine ignores it and just steps forward to embrace him, settling into Kurt’s arms in a way that feels too much like coming home. Blaine pulls back faster than Kurt would have liked, but he can’t really blame him.  


Kurt bites his lip nervously. “Do you want to get coffee or something? Catch up? If you’re not too tired?”  


Blaine grins broadly. “I’d love to.”

\--

Two hours later, Kurt is feeling sleepier and much braver, walking home with Blaine. They’ve settled into a comfortable silence after determining that they’re both off the same stop on the subway. It’s with his heart in his throat that Kurt slips his hand into Blaine’s, carefully slotting their fingers together without looking away from the sidewalk in front of him. Blaine only squeezes Kurt’s hand and shuffles closer so that their shoulders are brushing. When they stop in front of Blaine’s building, Blaine watches him with huge, scared eyes, refusing to let go of their joined hands. Kurt doesn’t say anything, cradles Blaine face with his free hand and kisses him slowly and carefully.  


Kurt only pulls away when air becomes an issue, and leans their foreheads together. Blaine’s other hand is warm and heavy on the arm of the hand that’s now twisted into the curls at the nape of Blaine’s neck.  


“Hi,” Kurt whispers, voice low and rough.  


Blaine laughs a little. “Hi.”  


“I don’t want to go,” Kurt admits.  


Blaine kisses him briefly and then takes hold of both his hands, moving backwards towards his door with. “Then don’t.”


	6. Carol

When Kurt gets home his last day of work before Christmas, he finds his apartment transformed from when he’d left that morning. A small evergreen is in the corner, already strung with lights but otherwise undecorated, and electric candles are flickering in the windows; the boxes containing ornaments and other decorations are stacked neatly by the tree.  


Blaine is curled up on the sofa, reading, and Kurt sneaks up behind him, sliding his arms around Blaine’s shoulders.  


“Hi,” Blaine softly, turning his head to kiss Kurt.  


“Hi,” Kurt whispers back. “You were busy today.”  


Blaine grins brightly. “I ordered takeout, too, so we don’t have to cook.”  


Kurt hums and moves around the arm of the sofa to sit next to Blaine. “What kind of takeout?”  


Blaine tucks himself into Kurt’s side. “Pizza from Sally’s?”  


Kurt groans. “You’re trying to make me fat, aren’t you?”  


Blaine laughs and kisses Kurt’s cheek. “Nonsense, you’ll never be fat.”  


Kurt rolls his eyes. “So what else do you have planned for tonight?”  


“Decorate the tree, watch a movie and drink hot chocolate…” he shrugs.  


“When will the food get here?”  


Blaine glances at his watch. “Fifteen minutes or so. Why?”  


Kurt stands and holds his hand out for Blaine. “Dance with me?”  


Blaine smiles slowly and takes Kurt’s hand. “There’s no music,” he whispers into Kurt’s neck.  


“That’s never stopped you before.” Kurt pulls Blaine closer with a hand on the small of his back.  


They shuffle around the room in silence for a few minutes, until Blaine starts singing, “I’m dreaming of a white Christmas…”


	7. Ghost

He doesn’t really mean to propose “Being Alive” as a possibility, but then it’s out and it’s too late. Because even though he claims there’s no one for him to dedicate it to, there obviously is. It’s been on repeat since he talked to Blaine on Thanksgiving, and when he stands up on the stage to sing, it’s Blaine he imagines in the audience.  


And, yeah, he’s doing this for himself, this audition, following his dreams. But the song? The song is for Blaine, will probably always be for Blaine, no matter if they get back together or not. And when he closes his eyes, all he can see is Blaine smiling back at him with that soft look in his eyes that seems to be reserved especially for Kurt. Kurt can hear the heartbreaking hope in Blaine’s voice over their short Thanksgiving phone call, can feel Blaine’s hands warm on his waist from all the times they’ve shared space.  


He’s shocked out of the memories by the loud applause, and as astonished he is that everyone’s standing for him (for him), he feels a little disconnected. He doesn’t waste much time in finding an empty practice room to pull out his phone, pressing number two on his speed dial without overthinking it.  


“Kurt?”  


Blaine’s voice is low and warm; he sounds like he’s just woken up.  


“Are you there?”  


“Yeah,” Kurt says quickly. “Did I wake you up?”  


Blaine laughs a little. “No, I wasn’t asleep.”  


“Okay. I, um…” Kurt chews on his lower lip nervously. What is he supposed to say?  


“Wasn’t Rachel’s showcase today?” Blaine supplies quickly. “How’d it go?”  


“Great,” Kurt says faintly. “She won.”  


“Of course she did,” Blaine mutters, but fondly.  


“And I, um, I got a second audition. For NYADA.”  


Blaine shifts on the other end. “You did? That’s great! When is it?”  


Kurt laughs shortly. “It was today. In the middle of the showcase.”  


“In the middle of - Oh my God, why would they do that?” Kurt can just see Blaine’s eyebrows furrowing in confusion.  


“Rachel said Madame Tibideaux wanted to see me perform under pressure.” Blaine already knows about the reasons Kurt wasn’t admitted in the first place, had scowled and ranted about Carmen Tibideaux being blind and deaf. Even though Kurt had defended her, it felt good to have someone to believe in him so much.  


“What did you perform?” Blaine asks quietly.  


Kurt takes a deep breath. “’Being Alive’ from Company.”  


“Wow,” Blaine whispers. “I bet you sounded amazing. Did you sing it in the original key?”  


Kurt smiles. “Yeah. I think it went really well.”  


“That’s great, Kurt.”  


The warmth in Blaine’s voice is almost as good as a hug, and Kurt wraps his arms around his stomach. “I wish you had been there,” he admits quietly.  


Blaine’s breath hitches a little. “Me too. But, well, Christmas?”  


“Christmas.”


	8. Sketch

It’s just a skit, one of the silly short ones they do every month or so in their Intro to Acting class. Kurt is paired with Blaine, his best friend who he’s been crushing on for a good month and a half, and so, of course, they’re assigned the romantic sketch. It’s not that Kurt’s nervous (except he really, really is) because it’s just Blaine. Blaine, who has no problem sitting with their thighs touching on the couch to watch a movie, or scooting his chair up next to Kurt’s to explain how to complete a math problem. Blaine, who drapes friendly arms over Kurt’s shoulders when they’re walking through campus and dances pressed tight to Kurt’s chest at parties.  


The skit is perfectly fine, Kurt doesn’t need to put much effort into his acting to seem infatuated with Blaine, and Blaine brings out those big, smitten eyes with ease. It’s not until the end, when they’re dancing to invisible music, Kurt’s arms draped over Blaine’s shoulders and Blaine’s hands on Kurt’s waist, that something changes. Their foreheads are pressed together and Kurt can’t breathe at the look in Blaine’s eyes. It’s nothing like the one he’s been wearing throughout the performance; it’s deeper and more intimate and terrifying. But Kurt doesn’t have much longer to evaluate it before Blaine’s kissing him hesitantly, mouth warm and soft against Kurt’s. Kurt inhales sharply and pulls Blaine closer, deepening the kiss before realizing they’re still on stage, in front of the entire class and their teacher.  


Kurt pulls away slowly, blinking dazedly at Blaine, whose cheeks are bright red. Kurt only smiles and takes Blaine’s hand to pull him off the stage to the applause and catcalls from their classmates.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NC-17 in this one! You have been warned.

Kurt pins Blaine to the wall next to the door as soon as they’re inside, gripping at his hips and nosing along his neck as Blaine writhes desperately beneath him.  


“What do you want?” Kurt whispers, nipping at Blaine’s collarbone.  


“Anything,” Blaine gasps. “You.”  


Kurt laughs and moves up to suck at Blaine’s lower lip briefly. “But what do you want me to do to you?”  


Blaine whimpers. “Fuck me.”  


Kurt hums against Blaine’s mouth. “Here?”  


“Yes,” Blaine moans. “Please.”  


“But we don’t have lube out here,” Kurt says conversationally, without letting up the pressure of his hips against Blaine’s.  


Blaine whines. “In my coat pocket.”  


Kurt leans back far enough for Blaine to see the raised eyebrow, even as Kurt searches Blaine’s jacket pockets for the small tube. “A little bit optimistic, are we?”  


Blaine slides a hand into Kurt’s hair and tugs him back into a kiss without answering.  


Kurt smiles into the kiss, sliding his hands down to work at Blaine’s jeans. He pushes Blaine’s pants and underwear down together, helping Blaine kick them off and strip off his shirt and jacket. Blaine groans and ruts up into Kurt’s hip when he realizes where this is going, Kurt still fully clothed with Blaine naked up against the wall. Kurt smirks and pulls Blaine’s lower body far enough toward him so he can slide slick fingers into the crack of Blaine’s ass and tease his hole.  


Blaine squirms and rocks back and forth, caught in between the pressure of Kurt’s thigh against his aching dick and the smooth feel of Kurt’s fingers slipping into him. He muffles his moan into Kurt’s neck and grips Kurt’s waist tightly. Kurt chuckles and hooks his chin over Blaine’s shoulder to watch his fingers disappear slowly into that perfect ass, until he’s got three moving in and out and Blaine shaking against him.  


He quiets Blaine’s complaint with a kiss when he pulls his fingers out and lets Blaine undo his pants and push them down just far enough that he can spread lube over himself. Blaine backs up to the wall again and wraps his legs eagerly around Kurt’s waist, whining when Kurt doesn’t move quickly enough.  


“Patience,” Kurt breathes into Blaine’s ear, teasing his cock around where Blaine is wet and open.  


“Please,” Blaine begs, nipping at a spot behind Kurt’s ear.  


Kurt gasps and slides in suddenly and quickly, Blaine’s head thudding back against the wall as he groans. He doesn’t have the patience or stamina to draw things out, at least not now, and Kurt doesn’t waste any time in pulling out and slamming back in repeatedly until Blaine is nearly sobbing with need.  


Kurt waits until he’s trembling with need as well before he whispers, “You can come,” to Blaine, who gasps into Kurt’s shoulder as he obediently lets go and clenches around Kurt. It only takes a few more thrusts before Kurt’s tumbling over the edge too, and sliding their sweaty bodies into a tangle on the floor.  


“That was awesome,” Blaine mumbles sleepily.  


Kurt grins, extracts himself and offers a hand to Blaine. “C’mon; shower, nap, and round two. I have an early Christmas present for you.”  


Blaine’s eyes go wide and hazy as he stumbles after Kurt to the bathroom.


	10. Never

It doesn’t take long for Blaine to fall asleep after Christmas dinner, curled into the end of the couch while Burt watches the game. He doesn’t notice Kurt settling onto the couch between Burt and Blaine, but half wakes at some point to hear them talking quietly.  


“Can Blaine stay here tonight?” Kurt asks, sounding equal parts nervous and confident. “We haven’t been able to talk yet.”  


Burt stays quiet for a moment.  


“Dad,” Kurt begins, but Burt cuts him off.  


“It’s not up to me, kiddo. You’ll have to ask Blaine.”  


“I know.” Kurt shifts. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay with it too.”  


Blaine drifts off after that, and when he wakes up, Miracle on 34th Street is playing instead of the game. Someone has draped a blanket over him, and he pulls it around his shoulders as he sits up. Kurt smiles slowly at him, and Blaine ignores the thumping of his heart to smile back tentatively.  


Burt clears his throat, making Blaine startle and direct his eyes to the floor. “I think I’m going to head back to the hotel. Blaine, you want to stay here tonight?”  


Blaine glances between Burt and Kurt with big, nervous eyes.  


“Please?” Kurt says quietly.  


Blaine ducks his head to hide his smile. “Okay.”  


Burt resettles the NYADA cap on his head with a badly concealed grin and gets up from the couch. “Goodnight, boys. I’ll see you tomorrow.”  


Blaine keeps his eyes on the TV while Kurt walks his dad out. When he comes back, he sits close enough for his legs and arms to brush against Blaine’s, but neither of them say anything until the movie is over.  


“Do you want to shower?” Kurt asks abruptly. “I can lend you some pajamas.”  


Blaine looks up at him with wide eyes. “Are we still going to talk?” He hates how small his voice sounds.  


“I’ll make some hot chocolate while you’re showering and then we’ll talk. Is that okay?”  


\--  


When Blaine shuffles out of the shower in unruly curls and sweatpants that cover his feet, Kurt is already sitting on the couch in his own pajamas with two mugs of hot chocolate. Blaine keeps a bit of distance between them when he sits and curls around his mug.  


“Thank you,” Blaine finally says.  


Kurt frowns a little. “For what?”  


Blaine keeps his eyes on his hands. “For talking to me again?” he half asks. “For being happy to see me. For still being my best friend.”  


Kurt sighs, sets down his drink, and scoots closer, resting a hand on Blaine’s knee. “Oh Blaine, I told you I’m never saying goodbye to you.”  


Blaine looks up with enormous eyes. “But-”  


“Nope,” Kurt cuts him off. “No buts. Well, except maybe yours.” Blaine manages a watery laugh. “We might fight and get mad, but you’ll always be my best friend. And I’ll always love you.”  


Blaine is crying now, but Kurt just pulls his mug away to set aside and draws him into a hug. Blaine settles carefully into the curve of his side, hiding his face in Kurt’s neck, and finally lets himself hope.


	11. Bell

Blaine gets home several hours earlier than Kurt most days of the week, since working at Vogue requires much longer hours than Blaine puts in at the elementary school where he teaches Kindergarten. But it’s a Friday, which means Kurt will try to escape an hour or so earlier than usual so they can cook dinner together and relax. And, as is often the case, “test the stability” of various pieces of furniture around the apartment.  


Blaine’s collapsed on the couch, attempting a nap so he’ll actually be awake when Kurt gets home. Just as he’s about to drift off, there’s an obnoxious jangling. He sits up to see their cat slip into the kitchen. Frowning, he gets up and creeps into the kitchen to see McQueen with a jingle bell attached securely to his collar.  


When Kurt gets home half an hour later, it’s to see Blaine standing in the middle of the living room, hair disheveled and tiny scratches on his arms, holding a furious and writhing McQueen.  


“Blaine?” Kurt asks, fighting to keep the amusement out of his voice.  


Blaine startles, but keeps a firm grip on the cat, who lets out a pitiful yowl.  


Mouth twitching into a smile, Kurt drops his bags onto a chair and strides over.  


“He kept making noise while I was trying to nap,” Blaine says mournfully.  


Kurt snickers and easily unties the bell. As soon as Blaine loosens his hold, McQueen squirms free and stalks off haughtily.  


Blaine pouts up at Kurt with big, sad eyes, but Kurt just laughs and pulls Blaine in to kiss him.


	12. Diner

It’s close to midnight, and Kurt is sitting in the corner booth of a tiny diner a block away from his apartment because Rachel decided that she needed an extra four hours, on top of the four she already had from that morning, to practice for her dance practical the next day. She had been blasting the same song over and over and instead of telling her to turn it off and risk a full on Rachel Berry diva fit, Kurt escapes to the diner, which is blessedly quiet except for the mellow 90’s hits playing. He easily drowns it out with his iPod, and manages to make it through half of one of the four designs he needs to finish by the end of the week before he’s interrupted.  


“Hi!” The man grins brightly. “Can I get you anything?”  


Kurt snaps his eyes up to the man’s face from where he had been staring rather blatantly at the tight jeans under the man’s apron. He’s startled by the big honey eyes and captivating smile before he remembers he’s supposed to order something.  


“Um, coffee please?” he says hastily, hoping the guy isn’t freaked out by his ogling.  


But the man just bounces on his toes a little. “Great! Cream and sugar?”  


“Just milk, please.”  


Kurt doesn’t even pretend not to check out the guy’s ass on his way back to the kitchen.  


“What are you drawing?” the guy asks when he comes back with Kurt’s coffee.  


Kurt blushes, pulling his arms back from where they had been half covering his sketchbook. “Oh. Um, they’re designs. I’m at Parsons.”  


The guy’s eyes widen. “Wow, those are awesome.”  


Kurt imagines his face is probably an unattractive tomato color now. “Thanks.”  


“I’m Blaine,” the waiter says suddenly, them promptly flushes. “Sorry, that was really weird.”  


Kurt smiles and holds out his hand for Blaine to shake. “Kurt.”  


Kurt leaves an hour later with a half finished sketch and Blaine’s number saved carefully into his phone.


	13. Moth

Blaine is lying on his stomach, mindless of the way the grass and dirt will probably stain his clothes, with his chin resting on his crossed arms. His eyes cross as the tiny bug flits closer to his face, then away.  


“Kurt!” he exclaims quietly, kicking his feet slightly in excitement. “It’s a butterfly!”  


Kurt looks over from where he’s sitting cross-legged on a blanket, carefully tying daisies into chains. “That’s not a butterfly, Blaine,” he says patiently. “That’s a moth.”  


Blaine pouts over at Kurt, eyes big and stubborn. “How do you know?”  


Kurt scoots over to the edge of the blanket carefully, bringing him level with Blaine’s shoulders. “My mommy told me,” he whispers.  


Blaine scrambles to his knees. “Kurt,” he breathes, eyes going soft and impossibly wider.  


Kurt smiles sadly and takes Blaine’s hand. “It’s okay.”  


Blaine shakes his head, lower lip trembling a little as he gazes mournfully up at Kurt. But Kurt just squeezes his hand and leans over to kiss his cheek. They both have pink cheeks when Kurt pulls away, but Blaine just scoots over onto the blanket next to him and helps him string flowers together.


	14. Breath

Blaine has been staring at the ceiling for nearly an hour when he hears the scrape of the window opening. His heart clenches and he gets off the couch slowly and creeps over to carefully draw back the curtain separating Kurt’s room from the rest of the apartment. The window’s open, but there doesn’t seem to be anyone in the room and he realizes when he sees Kurt’s bed empty that it wasn’t a potential robber breaking in.  


Relieved, he peers out the window and spots Kurt sitting on the steps of the fire escape, wearing only his pajamas and that sinful sweater with the zippers on the sleeves. Blaine pokes he head out of the window.  


“You okay?” he asks quietly, and Kurt jumps a little.  


He sniffs and scrubs a hand under his eyes. “Yeah. I’m fine.”  


Blaine frowns and hovers uncertainly, half out the window and half in. He doesn’t want to overstep, but he also knows that Kurt won’t ever ask for help even if he wants it.  


Kurt chews on his lower lip for a moment. “You should go back to sleep.”  


“You’re going to stay out here?”  


Kurt nods.  


“Aren’t you going to get sick?” Blaine asks quietly.  


Kurt shrugs. “I’ll be fine.”  


“Kurt,” Blaine whispers, deflating a little.  


“You can stay,” Kurt says abruptly. “If you want.”  


Blaine swings his legs over the windowsill in reply and sits down next to Kurt. They huddle together and watch their breath swirl up into the sky silently until it starts to snow lightly.  


Kurt smiles slowly, hand sliding into Blaine’s. “Merry Christmas, Blaine.”  


Blaine can’t help the wide grin that takes over his face. He squeezes Kurt’s hand and keeps his eyes on the snow drifting down. “Merry Christmas, Kurt.”


	15. Kept

It’s swelteringly hot in Kurt’s apartment. Blaine is lying on his back by the open window, his thin t-shirt sticking to his chest. Kurt is at his desk, on his computer and in front of a fan, sipping from a glass of ice water.  


“Why is it so hot?” Blaine asks, trying to keep the whine from his voice.  


Kurt rolls his eyes. “It’s July in New York City and we don’t have air conditioning, what did you expect?”  


“Not this,” Blaine pouts.  


“Go take a shower,” Kurt suggests absently, eyes still on the screen of his laptop.  


Blaine doesn’t reply and Kurt startles when a heavy weight drapes over his back and shoulders. “Come shower with me,” Blaine breathes into his ear.  


Kurt squirms and scowls over his shoulder. “Blaine, get off. You’re sweaty.”  


Blaine hums and presses open mouthed kisses along Kurt’s neck.  


Kurt tilts his head to the side with a sigh. “Fine. Just give me five minutes okay? I need to send this email.”  


Blaine grins and turns Kurt’s head to press a quick kiss to his lips. “Five minutes”  


Now with the prospect of showering with Kurt, time seems to drag. Blaine wanders around the room, poking through bookcases and drawers until he pulls open Kurt’s bedside drawer. He’s never looked inside himself; Kurt’s always the one to get out whatever they need from it. He sifts past the lube and condoms, a bunch of torn pieces of paper used as bookmarks, and a handful of pens until he finds a rather familiar, small black box. He fishes it out and slides the drawer shut with his hip before sitting on the bed.  


He knows what’s inside the box; he can remember quite clearly everything about it. The day he gave it to Kurt, the promises made, the slow, reverent sex they’d had that afternoon. And when he flips the box open, it looks exactly the same, barely worn out or creased, the little bowtie still pristine.  


Behind him, the bed shifts, and Kurt slides his knees on either side of Blaine’s hips, arms tight around his waist. “Snooping, were you?” he teases.  


Blaine leans back into his embrace. “You kept it?”  


Kurt noses along Blaine’s neck, touching light kisses on his jaw. “Of course I did, silly. Why wouldn’t I?”  


Blaine gently rubs his thumb over the gum wrapper ring. “I don’t know. I figured you got rid of it after we broke up.”  


Kurt presses a hand into the side of Blaine’s face, turning him enough to kiss him thoroughly. “I love you,” he says firmly. “I never stopped, and that’s why I kept it. Because it reminded me that no matter how stupid you were that one time, you loved me enough to make a fucking ring made out of gum wrappers.”  


Blaine laughs, closes the box and sets in on the bedside table before turning around and straddling Kurt’s lap. “I love you,” he murmurs against his lips.  


Kurt smiles. “I know. Now how about that shower?”


	16. Saint

Blaine is glad they decided to go in early spring instead of the summer, when it’s much cooler and Kurt won’t complain about the heat and the effects of the sun on his pale skin. There’s also the added bonus of cheaper prices and less tourists. They wander the old city without much of a destination, talking to locals to find the best bars and stores and restaurants. They explore El Morro and eat dinner at Aguaviva, where Blaine convinces Kurt to try the oysters, and then spend the evening walking hand-in-hand through the dock area where vendors and street performers entertain.  


Kurt lets Blaine drag him to the beach for a good half of their trip, sprawling in the sand and taking walks and venturing into the cold water. Blaine never leaves their hotel room without his camera, determined to capture every moment, even though Kurt teases him about it. There’s a picture that’s his favorite, taken their first night in Old San Juan and already saved on his computer, of Kurt standing in front of the glass doors to the balcony as the sun set behind him. He’s leaning a hip and his head against the wall, looking peaceful and glorious and utterly devoid of clothing.  


There are no other photos from that night, but Blaine will remember how Kurt had turned around so that the sunset framed his body and lit him up, to find Blaine naked and waiting on the bed. They christened a good portion of the surfaces in the hotel room that night, as well as their new status as husbands (a word Blaine had looked up on Google translate just so that he could tell everyone who didn’t happen to know English). And in the morning, Kurt sneaks a picture of Blaine with his phone, the covers just barely grazing his hips as the sunrise kissed along his skin, eyes golden and half-hooded as he watches Kurt.  


“Te amo, marido,” Blaine rumbles sleepily.  


Kurt just shakes his head fondly and finds a way to keep him quiet.


	17. Chapter 17

To Kurt, Blaine seems to slot perfectly into the cracks of his life. He lies with his head on Kurt’s lap on the couch while watching TV, or wraps himself around Kurt while he’s cooking, or scratches away at his music in the window seat. It doesn’t feel weird to have him there, to have him held tight in his arms at night, to wake up with him in the morning, to come home to him in the evening. To shower together and brush their teeth together and share space together.  


Blaine’s things start inching their way into the apartment without them noticing; his books lined up next to Kurt’s, his movies in a stack by the TV, his clothes carefully folded into a spare drawer. By the time Blaine officially moves in, he figures he knows all the nooks and crannies in the apartment, as well as most of Kurt’s meticulously hidden secrets. Like his addiction to cheesecake and his obsession with organizing his closet by color and designer, or his way with cars.  


It’s only his second day officially living there, putting his off-season clothes into boxes to go under the bed to save room, when he finds the box. It’s plain and wooden, about the size of a shoebox, and inside are stacks of photographs and notes in a handwriting that’s not Kurt’s. He grins at pictures of a tiny Kurt, wearing bowties and sitting primly at a table clearly set up for tea next to a woman who is obviously his mom. Another photo is of Kurt on a pink bicycle with streamers, his dad next to him and holding on so he won’t fall. Then one from a Christmas, Kurt sitting delighted in front of an Easy-Bake oven with his mom smiling behind him. There are dozens, and Blaine watches Kurt grow up in them, until he comes to the last one, Kurt sitting on his mom’s lap, both smiling brightly. On the back, it says “always look to the east.”  


“Blaine?”  


Blaine jumps, box thumping to the ground, and turns to see Kurt leaning one hip against the doorframe, head tilted in curiosity.  


“What’s that?”  


Blaine can feel his cheeks burn. “I’m sorry,” he says meekly. “I didn’t mean to pry, but I found it when I was putting my stuff under the bed, and - ”  


Kurt is across the room in two quick strides, settling on his knees behind Blaine. “I’m not mad,” he says quietly into Blaine’s neck, snaking his arms around his waist.  


Blaine relaxes back against him, relieved. “I like this,” he whispers, fingers tracing the words on the back of the last photo.  


Kurt smiles sadly. “My mom used to say that all the time. I never really figured out what it means.”  


Blaine twists in his arms to stare up at Kurt, confused. “You don’t know what it means?”  


“No need to rub it in, smartass,” Kurt scowls.  


Blaine flushes and shakes his head. “The sun rises in the east. It means keep looking toward the future instead of lingering on the past.”  


Kurt reaches out to touch the paper with shaky fingers, leaning his chin on Blaine’s shoulder. “Well. I could have used you around a long time ago, telling me that.”  


Blaine laces their fingers together over his stomach. “I’m here now.”  


“You’re here now,” Kurt agrees. “You’re here now.”


	18. Lightning

Kurt is programmed to wake up at the first hint of thunder, just like he’d been the one to wake up when Charlie had nightmares, or couldn’t sleep. Charlie’s been with them for nearly two years now, and the nightmares and sleepless nights are pretty much gone. Thunderstorms still scare him, though, and he usually ends up with them in bed when one passes over.  


Tonight, Kurt wakes up first, watching for a moment as lightening flashes outside the window before untangling himself from Blaine, who whines a little at the loss of his pillow. He tiptoes into Charlie’s room to find the boy sitting up in his bed and clutching his stuffed lion, eyes round in a way that reminds Kurt of Blaine, despite the fact that none of them are actually related.  


Charlie launches himself at Kurt when he sits down on the edge of the bed.  


“You okay, monkey?” Kurt whispers into his hair.  


Charlie shakes his head from where it’s buried in Kurt’s chest.  


“Do you want to come sleep with Daddy and me?”  


Charlie answers by wrapping himself bodily around Kurt, who chuckles a little and carries him out of the room, their Beagle, Boq, clicking down the hallway behind them.  


Blaine blinks up blearily at them when they come in and holds his arms out for Charlie.  


“Hey, Chip. You staying with us tonight?”  


Charlie curls himself into Blaine’s embrace, his lion held firmly between them. Kurt slides back in behind Blaine, arms wrapped around both of them, and leg tucked between Blaine’s. Sometimes Kurt will sleep on Charlie’s other side, and Blaine will tease that they’ve made a “Chip sandwich,” but not tonight. Tonight he’s looking forward to waking up wrapped around Blaine, even if they won’t be able to have early morning anniversary sex, and being able to hold him a little closer because they’ve defied all expectations and made it, in every way that counts.


	19. Back

The week and a half preceding Fashion Week has Kurt working a full six hours earlier so that he’s on the same time as the people they have in Paris. That means he’s already asleep when Blaine gets home and up long before Blaine. It’s rough, not to mention weird, but it’s not for long, so neither of them complain too much about the weird schedules. And Kurt has to admit there’s a pretty great added-benefit of getting to watch Blaine sleep as he gets ready in the morning. It’s significantly more creepy than sweet, he’s sure.  


Neither of them sleep in pajamas anymore; it’s silly if they’re just going to come off sooner or later, and although Kurt was hesitant at first, he doesn’t mind admitting it’s a good idea now. Because Blaine always overheats at night and throws all the covers onto Kurt’s side of the bed, ending up sprawled shamelessly and gloriously naked on his stomach, putting on display the breadth of his back, the dip in his spine on his lower back, the swell of his ass.  


This time, Kurt’s free to watch for as long as he wants, since he’s off the Paris schedule and has the entire week off to ravage his husband. And why wait when he can start immediately, he asks himself as he crawls up the bed to hover over Blaine. No time like the present, after all.


	20. Fireplace

Charlie is lying on his stomach in front of the fireplace, staring with fascination at the flames. Boq is curled up by his side, head on Charlie’s back, sleeping. Kurt watches from the kitchen, leaning on the counter with his head propped in his hand.  


“What are you smiling about?” Blaine teases quietly, bumping his hip against Kurt’s.  


Kurt hums and turns to loop his arms around Blaine’s neck. “Aren’t I just allowed to be happy?”  


“Of course.” Blaine grins and rucks up the back of Kurt’s shirt to splay his hands on Kurt’s back. “But since you’re usually laughing at me, I thought I’d ask.”  


Kurt rolls his eyes. “See if you get any presents from Santa this year.”  


Blaine fakes a pout, making his eyes as round as possible. “You wouldn’t.”  


“Oh, but I would,” Kurt breathes into Blaine’s ear. “And Santa had some very special gifts for you, too.”  


Blaine drops his head onto Kurt’s shoulder and whines, lightly rocking his hips into Kurt’s, only to be interrupted by Charlie.  


“Daddy, Papa!”  


Blaine pulls away to scoop up the boy. “What’s up, Chip?”  


“When is Santa going to get here?” he asks, bouncing in Blaine’s arms.  


Kurt laughs and wraps his arms around Blaine’s waist from behind. “He’s not coming until tomorrow night, monkey. You know that.”  


To Kurt’s surprise, Charlie’s eyes light up. “So then can we make your special Christmas cookies tomorrow for Santa?”  


Kurt smiles and hugs Blaine tighter. “That’s a great idea. We’ll go to the supermarket tomorrow morning to get the ingredients, okay?”  


Charlie smacks a kiss to Blaine’s cheek, then squirms down to go run back to the fireplace, where he plops down and resumes his careful study of the fire.  


Blaine leans back into Kurt’s chest. “I love you.”  


“I love you, too, honey,” Kurt whispers into Blaine’s neck. “And I think Santa’s determined whether or not you’re getting coal this year.”  


“Oh?” Blaine turns in Kurt’s arms to raise an eyebrow at him.  


“Mhmm. Definitely on the naughty list.” He slides his hands down to Blaine’s ass. “But that has its benefits.”


	21. Local

“Where are we going?” Blaine asks, for the fifth time by Kurt’s count.  


“I’m not telling you,” Kurt replies patiently. “It’s a surprise.”  


“Not even a hint?” Blaine pleads, and Kurt knows he’s pouting.  


Kurt refuses to look over, because if he does, he’ll cave. He looks anyway. “It’s local.”  


Blaine scowls. “That’s not fair. New York is huge.”  


Kurt shrugs. “You asked for a hint, I gave you one.”  


Blaine crosses his arms, pout back, and slumps down in the seat. Kurt laughs a little and nudges their shoulders together.  


“We’ll be there soon enough. You’ll love it, I promise.”  


Blaine sighs and settles himself into Kurt’s side. “If I don’t, do I get my choice of sexual activities tonight?”  


Kurt smirks. “I’m pretty sure whatever you would want to do is already on the agenda for tonight, so sure.”  


“Really?” Blaine scoots closer so that he can rest his chin on Kurt’s shoulder and whisper in his ear. “Were you planning on tying me up and having your way with me?”  


Kurt drops his head into his hands and groans.  


Blaine looks rather smug.  


Kurt pulls him to his feet before he has the chance to turn Kurt on any more. “C’mon this is us.”  


Blaine frowns and glances at the stop. “What are we doing here?”  


Kurt grins and tugs him off the subway. “You’ll see,” he half sings.  


Instead of walking down sixth, Kurt links arms with Blaine and guides him over to fifth so they can look at the Christmas displays as they walk up from 34th to 40th. His surprise forgotten, Blaine gazes at the displays with wide eyes. Even after several years in the city, the beauty of it never seems to wear off on him.  


Blaine doesn’t realize where they’re headed until they’re standing right in front of Bryant Park. Then he stops short, forcing Kurt to turn around and face him.  


“What?” Kurt asks innocently, sliding his hand down Blaine’s arm to lace their fingers together.  


“Kurt,” Blaine replies quietly in that voice that means he doesn’t know what to say because Kurt’s zigged when Blaine thought he would zag.  


Kurt smiles and swings their joined hands. “C’mon. We have a tradition to fulfill.”


	22. Snow

“Kurt, Kurt.”  


Kurt ignores the person nudging his shoulder and curls back into the warm spot on the bed. The person shakes his arm more insistently.  


“Kurt, it’s snowing!”  


Kurt blinks blearily up at Blaine, who’s wide-eyed and grinning, hair rumpled and wearing one of Kurt’s oversized sweaters.  


“So?” Kurt scowls, his icy stare weakened by the imprints of the pillow on his cheeks and the disheveled state of his hair.  


“C’mon, please?”  


Blaine pulls out the puppy eyes and Kurt groans, hauling himself upright. “Fine,” he grumbles. “Since you’ve already woken me up.”  


Blaine bounces a little on the bed before tucking himself under Kurt’s arm. “We don’t have to go outside. Just come look with me.”  


Kurt has to admit it does look pretty outside. Even in the middle of the night, New York isn’t asleep, but it is calmer: quiet and slow with the holiday in the morning and under a blanket of snow. Kurt wraps himself around Blaine, resting his chin on Blaine’s shoulder and hugging him tightly.  


“It’s beautiful,” Blaine sighs, slumping into Kurt’s embrace.  


“Merry Christmas,” Kurt whispers in reply.  


“Merry Christmas.”


	23. Faith

Blaine’s hands are starting to go numb, but he promises himself one more song to round out the hour he’s been sitting out in the cold. There’s not much money in the guitar case in front of him, since it’s Christmas Eve and most people are home with their families already. But there are a few people still wandering by, including a family with two little girls in red coats, so he starts up his last song, strumming absently on his guitar to find the right opening chords.  


He isn’t planning on singing along to this one; he likes the way it sounds reverberating across a relatively quiet city, but before he gets too lost in the music he hears someone singing along.  


The voice is high, but distinctly male, and he glances around to see a tall man arm in arm with a shorter woman. Blaine can’t quite tear his eyes away from the man, who’s all long lines and bright eyes, his voice gaining strength as he pulls the woman along to where Blaine is sitting. The woman joins in on the second verse, and Blaine is blown away by the ease with which they harmonize and balance each other out. He doesn’t even bother trying to add his own voice, afraid of messing them up.  


Blaine is still gaping at them when the last notes fade away, the woman grinning widely and the man smiling at Blaine. He carefully sets his guitar into his case and latches it before curling his hands into his pockets.  


“You both have amazing voices,” he finally says, causing the woman to beam.  


“Thank you,” she replies, a little too loudly. “We’re both students at NYADA.”  


Blaine raises his eyebrows, eyes going back to the man. “That’s a great school.”  


The woman looks like she’s about to go off on a rant about the school’s qualifications when the man cuts her off. “You’re really good, too.”  


Blaine blushes, and is grateful that his cheeks are already red from the cold.  


“Why are you out here on Christmas Eve, though?” the woman asks, yelping when the man elbows her in the side.  


“Rachel.”  


“I’m just asking,” she mutters.  


“It’s okay,” Blaine laughs. “I’ve been out here every day playing to raise money for a homeless shelter down the street. I wasn’t sure how much business I’d get today, but I figured I’d come out anyway.”  


“How sweet,” Rachel coos. “We’re just coming from the soup kitchen ourselves. Plans with family didn’t really work out, so we thought we’d donate our time instead.” She frowns suddenly. “Do you not celebrate Christmas?”  


“Oh, I do,” Blaine smiles, attempting to keep his voice cheerful. “But, like you, family plans didn’t really work out.”  


Rachel not so subtly nudges the man’s shoulder, turning big doe eyes on him. “We should invite him to celebrate with us!”  


The man’s brow furrows a little as he glances between Rachel and Blaine.  


“I wouldn’t want to impose,” Blaine says quickly. “You don’t even know me.”  


The man sighs and turns to Blaine. “What would you be doing if you didn’t come with us?”  


Blaine fidgets awkwardly. “Um. Well, there’s a Christmas movie marathon on ABC Family. I was planning on catching that.”  


Rachel scowls. “None of your friends invited you over?”  


Blaine shrugs.  


“You should,” the man says quietly.  


Blaine blinks up at him in confusion. “Should what?”  


“Come with us,” he replies. “I know we don’t know you, and you don’t know us, but I promise the only thing we’re going to attack you with is an abundance of Christmas carols, which I gather from the fact that you’ve been sitting here for who knows how long singing said carols that it wouldn’t be an issue.”  


Blaine smiles slowly. “And you trust me?”  


Kurt grins and holds out his hand. “It’s Christmas. Why not.”  


Blaine takes his hand and lets the man help him up, determined to ignore the heat trickling down into his stomach at the touch. “My name is Blaine.”  


“Kurt.”


	24. Merry

Kurt is in his and Blaine’s bedroom, getting some last minute wrapping done while Blaine walks Boq. Charlie is fast asleep on the couch in the living room; he had been determined to wait up for Santa, but he’d woken up early that morning to go to the supermarket with Kurt to get cookie supplies and had foregone his usual afternoon nap in favor of visiting some family friends in the city.  


Kurt is just finishing up the last gift when he hears Blaine and Boq come back in through the front door. He closes their bedroom door behind him quietly and leans against the wall in the hallway, watching as Blaine unwraps himself from the layers.  


“It’s cold,” Blaine mumbles when he tucks himself into Kurt’s chest, pressing cold hands against Kurt’s back.  


“I can tell,” Kurt says, brushing snow out of Blaine’s curls. “Charlie fell asleep already.”  


Blaine drops his chin onto Kurt’s shoulder to look at the couch that Charlie is curled up on. “We should probably bring him into his room. Don’t want Santa waking him up.”  


Kurt rolls his eyes and kisses Blaine’s cheek. “Let’s go, then. Charlie’s going to wake us up at an ungodly hour, so I want to go to bed.”  


“Go to sleep or go to bed?” Blaine asks, plastering himself to Kurt’s back.  


Kurt slaps his hand lightly and dislodges him when he stoops to pick up Charlie. Blaine lets Kurt handle Charlie, and starts to stack the presents under the tree. To his surprise, Kurt doesn’t try to rearrange them after putting Charlie to bed, just helps Blaine put out the last few gifts and places their note from Santa on the table next to the empty plate and glass.  


Later in bed, Kurt wraps himself around Blaine, nosing at the back of his neck. “I love you,” he whispers sleepily.  


“Merry Christmas,” Blaine replies, but Kurt’s already asleep.


End file.
